She was just a frank, whole-hearted girl, knowing nothing of love and its strange, inevitable claim, but deep within her spoke that instinct, premonition--call it what you will--which seems in some mysterious way to warn every woman when the great miracle of love is drawing near. It is as though Love's shadow fell across her heart and she were afraid to turn and face him--shrinking with the terror of a trapped wild thing from meeting his imperious demand. Errington, watching her, saw the childish gesture, the quiver of her mouth, the soft fall of the shadowed lids, and with a swift, impetuous movement he leaned forward and caught her by the arms, pulling her towards him. Instinctively she resisted, struggling in his grip, her eyes, wide and startled, gazing into his. "_Diana_!" The word seemed wrung from him, and as though something within her answered to its note of urgency, she suddenly yielded, stumbling forward on to her knees. His arms closed round her, holding her as in a vice, and she lay there, helpless in his grasp, her head thrown back a little, her young, slight breast fluttering beneath the thin silk of her blouse. For a moment he held her so, staring down, at her, his breath hard-drawn between his teeth; then swiftly, with a stifled exclamation he stooped his head, kissing her savagely, bruising, crushing her lips beneath his own. She felt her strength going from her--it seemed as though he were drawing her soul out from her body--and then, just as sheer consciousness itself was wavering, he took his mouth from hers, and she could see his face, white and strained, bent above her. She leaned away from him, panting a little, her shoulders against the side of the car. "God!" she heard him mutter. For a space the throb of the motor was the only sound that broke the stillness, but presently, after what seemed an eternity, he raised her from the floor, where she still knelt inertly, and set her on the seat again. She submitted passively. When he had resumed his place, he spoke in dry, level tones. "I suppose I'm damned beyond forgiveness after this?" She made no answer. She was listening with a curious fascination to the throb of her heart and the measured beat of the engine; the two seemed to meet and mingle into one great pulse, thundering against her tired brain. "Diana"--he spoke again, still in the same toneless voice--"am I to be forbidden even the outskirts of your life now?" She moved her head restlessly. "I don't know--oh, I don't know," she whispered. She was utterly spent and exhausted. Unconsciously every nerve in her had responded to the fierce passion of that suffocating kiss, and now that the tense moment was over she felt drained of all vitality. Her head drooped listlessly against the cushions of the car and dark shadows stained her cheeks beneath the wide-opened eyes--eyes that held the startled, frightened expression of one who has heard for the first time the beat of Passion's wings.